Nancy Murphy / Writer

writings and performances by Nancy Murphy

When Love Comes to Town


I’ll be in the candlelit bath, trying to forget
how I lost my watch that day by letting it slip
into muddy waters as we sat by the edge
of the lake. It was as if I wanted it
to drop. Time is a construct, you said.

When Love comes to town the second time,
he’ll wander the streets looking for me.
But it’s been too long since I fell for that
bleeding heart business. I’ll hurry home,
keys in hand, fingers spread. Women
learn early how anything can be a weapon.

When Love comes to town again,
the last drops of the sapphire day will color
the incoming night sky. The city will darken
like a prison wall. Love will dance
in the loneliness of the empty streets,
pulsate to her own soft soundtrack.
Love is patient, love is kind.

Love, when you come to town the last time,
you’re faceless, timeless, omnipresent.
A little sad too. We’ve often abandoned
you for lust, laziness or hopeless longing.
But nothing compares to Love!
How you warm us like a sun, turn us
toward each other to welcome the dawn.


 Telephone 2025


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